Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Azerbaijan and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Spandau Ballet to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Blackbyrds. All the underground hits.
All Maleditus Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nico record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Saccharine Trust,
Parry Music,
Second Layer,
Intrusion,
The Cowsills,
MC5,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bizarre Inc.,
Banda Bassotti,
Magma,
Main Source,
Pierre Henry,
Mr. Review,
The Electric Prunes,
Charles Mingus,
Dead Boys,
Tomorrow,
Albert Ayler,
Blake Baxter,
Terry Callier,
Bluetip,
Black Pus,
Masters at Work,
Erasure,
the Fania All-Stars,
Con Funk Shun,
Deepchord,
The Last Poets,
Peter and Kerry,
The Gories,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Victims,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ken Boothe,
10cc,
Outsiders,
Bobby Byrd,
Darondo,
Todd Rundgren,
Von Mondo,
Eve St. Jones,
Robert Wyatt,
The Stooges,
Dawn Penn,
Marshall Jefferson,
Porter Ricks,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Yellowson,
Stockholm Monsters,
Technova,
Moby Grape,
Monks,
Wire,
Mandrill,
Flamin' Groovies,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ten City,
Duran Duran,
John Cale,
Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.